Page 72 of Not Another Love Song

She sighed into his mouth, air coming quickly and leaving just as fast. Gwen slid onto his lap, sitting on his thighs and draping her arms over his shoulders.

He moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth, dancing and searching and urging her on. Gwen pushed against him, her chest against his and her lips never leaving his.

Alex Fitzgerald wanted her. And he was beautiful.

She heard him place the violin and bow down as delicately as possible, and she smiled, waiting for him to touch her, to paw at her and rip her clothes and—

There were only light fingers on her hips, even as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip. Small touches to her outer thighs, even as she scooted forward, opening her legs to press them further together. Fingers curled into her dress and clutched, even as she moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips and pressed her tongue to his.

He panted against her lips as she pulled back to look at him. Eyes blown dark. Pink staining his cheeks. He stared into her eyes, waiting for some cue from her.

She nodded, jerking her head. “Please.”

His hands were up her thighs, dragging her dress, pulling it up past her waist, tugging it over her head and off. She gasped at the sudden chill before his lips dropped to her chest and one hand covered her breast, the other falling back to her hip, thumb rubbing over her skin.

She listened to her own choking breath as his lips and tongue attacked her chest, spinning down until he sucked at her breast through her thin bra.

“Oh, my—”

The hand on her hip slid over her lace underwear, thumb pressing to her clit easily. The other hand pinched at her nipple.

She gasped, throat closing as her eyes rolled back.

He groaned with her lace-covered nipple in his mouth.

She felt like she was drowning, trying to suck in air against the current. Her hips rocked against the fingers at her clit, and he worked her bra down under her breasts.

His lips were all over her, sucking and licking and blowing hot air whenever he stopped to breathe.

“I…I need…” she stammered, pulling sharp air into her body.

His hand pushed under her lace panties, thumb pressing quick and consistent circles on her clit.

She felt it tightening inside of her, faster than it had ever come on before, and her hips tensed as his teeth grazed her breast, growling against her skin.

She panted for air, and as his thumb brushed firmly against her clit, she dragged him back from her chest, dipping her head to kiss him. Her hips jumped. Her throat whined. Her fingers tugged. And her lips parted for him.

She fractured as he breathed into her, “Gwen.” A cry burst from her lungs, her eyes squeezed tight, and her hips jerked several sharp movements against his.

She fluttered down, drifting like a feather, and whispered his name—his true name—across his lips, before nuzzling her mouth to him again.

He kissed her, soft and easy, and when he moved his hands from her core and breast and back to her hips, she could feel him, hard and restrained in his tuxedo pants.

Her hands slid down from his shoulders, brushing over his chest and stomach, down to his button and zipper. He sucked in a shaky breath and then dropped his forehead against her neck. She ran her fingers across the outline of him, soft strokes sweeping over his zipper. She felt him twitch. When she flipped open his button, he muttered, “Fuck” into her neck.

And then he was standing, taking her with him and holding her legs around his waist as he stepped over her violin case and walked her out of the room.

She heaved for air when he directed them to his bedroom.

He pressed her back into a wall and pushed his hips into her, pinning her. He swallowed and dipped his head, pressing their mouths together, his hands holding her face still as he delved into her, twisting his tongue to hers and suffocating her with his breath. Just as she started to struggle for air he pulled away, gasping, and turned his mouth on her neck.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he hissed into her skin. He rolled his hips to hers, and she felt him twitch against her core. His hands slid down, gliding over her ribs and twining around her waist. One hand was splayed across her lower back, while the other had slipped down to hold her hip. “It’s never been like this.”

Gwen closed her eyes, nodding against his temple. “Yes,” she whispered. “For me too.”

“Fuck, you smell so good.”

Which was funny, because she thought she smelled like hairspray and Dial soap tonight.

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